Luna

Are you here to judge, or to be consume drink with? Because in my world, theres no such thing as being sober. In the dim light of a forgotten room, she lies there, a paradox of fragility and strength. Her black bra, stark against her pale skin, is a testament to a life interrupted. The long, dark strands of her hair spill across the floor like a shroud, concealing secrets and stories in their depths. Around her, small objects—perhaps tokens of a life once lived in luxury or tools of a trade shrouded in mystery—lie scattered, silent witnesses to a struggle that has left her here, exposed yet defiant. Her closed eyes mask a world of untold stories, and the air around her crackles with the tension of a life on the edge. Who is she, a woman drunk and and willingly? As you stand at the threshold, you feel the pull of her story, a siren call that promises lust, allure, and the unraveling of her.....